A Heart Full Of Booze and Revolution
by Revolutionary Tears
Summary: A modern day AU Enjolras/Grantaire fic. Possibly some Jehan/Courfeyrac and Joly/Lesgles in the future. Grantaire decides to change after being in love with Enjolras for so long and seeing how much he hates him. But what happens if this change has a bigger effect than he thought? NOTE: I obviously don't own Les Miserables or the characters. (This is very based off of the book too.)
1. Gaze

"Look over there!" Courfeyrac said to Grantaire with a light smirk, pointing to a girl across the room. "Ooh and there too." He said, pointing out another girl. "We should talk to them...well, I talk and you watch...back me up or something...and then..."

But Grantaire was not paying attention to Courfeyrac's display of what he liked to call 'art and admiration'. He was too busy looking at the blonde, curly haired, god-faced Enjolras whom was talking to Combeferre across the cafe at a small table. And it was only after five minutes of this useless-talking-and-elaborate-planning that Courfeyrac noticed, causing a wider smirk than before to dance across his face.  
"Or you could just go flirt with your true love - your 'Apollo'." Courfeyrac teased with a grin.

This comment snapped Grantaire out of his daze, and annoyed him. He knew he had told Courfeyrac to fuck off with the stupid taunting and teasing with this Enjolras nonsense. He knew Enjolras wouldn't be interested, so he hated how Courfeyrac more than supported - or 'shipped', as he called it - them both. So at this comment, Grantaire punched Courfeyrac in the shoulder - not roughly, but not lightly either, as a warning like 'Shut the fuck up we've been over this'.

"Ow..." Courfeyrac muttered with a slight frown, although this wasn't going to get him out of his mood now that he had started. "Why don't you just admit your undying love for him?"

Grantaire sighed and grabbed his bottle of booze - a brandy and wine mixed with some sort of vodka - from the table, and took a nice long, refreshing drink from it, choosing to ignore Courfeyrac's annoying question. That question always got to him - his love was not _undying_...was it? What did undying include? That he was persistent and didn't suddenly stop loving him? Because if so, he supposed his love was undying...but sometimes he wished it wasn't. It was stupid - he knew Enjolras only cared about that silly revolution. But that was alright with Grantaire - he loved watching the young, blonde statue go on about his dreams and achievements he made. He loved to watch him soar through the heavens. It was amazing. And no one soared like Enjolras, none as lovely or brilliantly as he did.  
But Grantaire knew that if he shared this with anyone, the teasing would be endless.  
Like with what happened with Courfeyrac.

At some party, Grantaire had gotten so drunk (which was not surprising nor a new thing) that Courfeyrac was able to make him squeeze out his feelings for the blonde revolutionary. And boy, was Courfeyrac giving Grantaire a rough time about it any chance he could, which was basically every time they talked. That's why Grantaire avoided Courfeyrac sometimes.

Grantaire set down his bottle with a sigh as he stared at Enjolras, not so chalantley. He did love him, but he was too scared - was it fear that he truly felt? - to tell anyone. Maybe Enjolras would find out, and then it would be all over, and his life would be officially a sad story. So he just kept quiet in his drunken way and stared, hopelessly in love with the blonde boy across the cafe.


	2. Clothing

Enjolras looked at his notes on his Ipad with a sigh. "There's something wrong here...I can't quite place my finger on it..."

"I know what it is, dear." Combeferre said softly with a sigh.

Enjolras looked up. "Really? What is it?"  
"Well, you just...you overwork yourself." Combeferre said, frowning.  
"Overwork myself? I think I'm working just the right amount to make this work-"

"All of the time is not the right amount. You need to have just a bit of fun, dear. Like, maybe take a five minute break and talk to someone about something that's _not_ the revolution and to someone who is _not_ me or Courfeyrac. I mean, I love talking to you, E, but it's really unhealthy."

Enjolras sighed. "But this is revolution, 'Ferre! There's no time for fun and conversations! You're the only person I'll allow myself to wander off-topic with. Well, you and Courfeyrac, anyway."

"Well...maybe try talking to Grantaire? He seems to stare at you an awful lot, and seems pretty anxious to talk to you." Combeferre motioned over to him.

Enjolras sighed lightly and glanced at Grantaire out of the corner of his eye. He already knew what Grantaire was capable of - _nothing._ Absolutely _nothing._ Not even having a single conversation. Not even being pleasant to talk to. He was too...selfish, perhaps? He wasn't sure. But he had gotten into multiple arguments with the drunk idiot, and they never ended well. Usually they resulted in Grantaire avoiding the cafe for about two days, then coming right back with that same loud, drunken opinion. It was stupid. Why did he even come to the meetings if he didn't care? Grantaire was one of the few who actually got on Enjolras' nerves twenty-four-seven.

Enjolras shook his head. "No...you _know_ I can't talk to him, unless you want World War III to start."  
Combeferre sighed. "Just at least try and _reason_ with him."  
"There is no reasoning with him, 'Ferre! He's incapable of reasoning with!"  
"Just...fine, be that way, dear, but you might be missing out."  
"Missing out...?" Enjolras asked with furrowed eyebrows.

But Combeferre just ignored that question and pointed to the cafe drawing. "You forgot to add in that we need to ask that other cafe of men to join us, dear." He said.  
Enjolras nodded and wrote that down, but the question was nagging at his thoughts as he did.

_Missing out on what, exactly?_

* * *

"No...Courf, I'm serious this time, I will punch you so hard, you'll fly all the way to mexico via punch-power." Grantaire threatened as soon as he had taken off his blindfold, which he didn't even really agree to in the first place.

"But R!" Courfeyrac whined. "We need to make you look pretty for Enjolbro! You're going to end up kissing him one way or another, and you need to at least look good!"  
"Wow, thanks." Grantaire rolled his eyes.  
"Oh shut up, you don't exactly 'dress for success'." Courfeyrac said with a roll of his eyes, grabbing Grantaire's hand, and started to drag him inside the store.

The store was one of those really expensive, really nice stores that men shopped at for either formal wear, or really expensive 'casual wear'. Grantaire kind of gawked at the place - it was huge! It had racks upon racks and aisles upon aisles of just clothes. There was even a whole section of the store dedicated to _shirts._ That section alone must have been as big as the library in Harry Potter!

"Jehan! Over here!" Courfeyrac exclaimed, waving his arms wildly, trying to get Jean Prouvaire's attention, who has busy sorting through sweater vests. Jehan looked over and smiled at them, looked around cautiously, then went over to them.

"Hey! What're you two doing here?" Jehan asked with a grin.  
"Giving R the 'Courfeyrac Makeover'!" Courfeyrac said with a grin and a slight bounce.  
"Oh God...how did you get him to agree to this?"

"I didn't, I was blindfolded against my will." Grantaire answered with a sigh.  
"Now, that makes sense." Jehan spoke, nodding.

"We need your help! I feel like Galinda from Wicked - this is definitely the toughest case I've yet to face~." Courfeyrac said, looking at Grantaire with a sigh.  
"If you promise not to bring anymore musical references into this, I'll help." Jehan said.  
"HOORAY!"

"Jesus Christ..." Grantaire muttered, crossing his arms. Courfeyrac grabbed one of Grantaire's crossed arms and dragged him off along with him and Jehan.

Prouvaire and Courfeyrac sat Grantaire down in a chair by the dressing rooms.  
"Stay here, if you leave I will tell E that you like him." Jehan said.  
"How do you...?" Grantaire asked, blushing slightly.  
"It's pretty obvious, honey. Now _stay,_ please." He said a bit sternly - well, as sternly as Jehan could possibly get - before parting with Courfeyrac to go clothes-hunting.

Grantaire sighed and leaned back in the seat, rubbing his eyes, really annoyed. He was _way_ too sober to deal with this shit. Was this even really going to work? There was no way. He knew Enjolras hated him. They argued enough. It was obvious that Grantaire would be nothing but a drunk, cynical, annoying, ugly, horrible idiot. And that was the thing too - what did Grantaire even have to offer to Enjolras? A bottle of wine? Nothing other than that. He couldn't promise Enjolras that he'd have a good life as long as he loved him. He couldn't promise that he would support their silly revolution. He didn't have anything to even attract Enjolras' attention to him besides his constant babbling which was completely against his beliefs!

Oh, but what a marvelous, amazing statue Enjolras was! His beautiful features were equally as beautiful as his soul and his thoughts. Enjolras could rant on and on, and although Grantaire hated to hear speeches and ranting, he would always tune in to Enjolras' words, and pay close attention to them. And although he would retort something spiteful and stupid, it would still get the beautiful statue of the god Apollo to look at him, and respond back in his formal, yet very annoyed way.

Oh Enjolras. Grantaire's thoughts, love, beliefs, and Apollo.

He knew this would never work. No matter how damn attractive they could attempt to make him look. It was clear that it wouldn't work. Besides, clothes couldn't really make him attractive. He was _ugly._ So, there really was no point in all of this - well, at least to Grantaire there wasn't.

"Hopeless..." Grantaire muttered to himself.

Meanwhile, Prouvaire and Courfeyrac were searching for clothing - climbing on ladders to reach appealing clothing, fighting over a pair of shoes with an old lady who had been shopping for her nephew, looking endlessly for stuff that seemed like they would be good on Grantaire.

Courfeyrac wasn't really all that good with fashion, so when they met up again in the middle of the Amazon-like store, Jehan threw about half of Courfeyrac's pile to the side.

"You can't make him wear this! Have you seen his eyes?! The two colours would clash!" Jehan said, as he folded up an aqua-coloured sweatervest and put it to the side.  
"Sorry for trying..." Courfeyrac sighed.  
"I swear, you have _no_ fashion sense." He giggled

And that was true. Courfeyrac was always being told by Jehan how his shoes and socks don't match or how his shirt and pants 'clash' awfully. It was a good thing Courfeyrac had Jehan around - who fortunately had a _marvelous_ fashion sense.

"Wow Courf - really?" Jehan laughed as he looked at a light blue shirt with palm trees on it.  
"What?"  
Jehan just simply shook his head and put it to the side. "You need someone to teach you how to dress better. Or how to dress others better, at that."  
Courfeyrac sighed and pouted. "Sorry~." He whined.

Although Courfeyrac normally just shook off the insults on the way he dressed, it actually kind of hurt him a bit. Especially coming from Jehan, who was the sweetest of the bunch. It wasn't like Jehan was like this twenty-four-seven, but he was like this when the subject of clothing was brought up. Jehan, otherwise, was very sweet and nice and wrote poetry, so it was weird that he had this side. And this side _really_ made Courfeyrac feel bad. He didn't say anything to Jehan though, he just kept silent in these cases.

They walked back to Grantaire, who they were surprised was actually still there, waiting patiently. He looked up at them.  
"So...that's it, then? We can go?" He asked, a bit hopefully.

Jehan and Courfeyrac laughed.  
"No - you have to try them on! Duh!" Courfeyrac said, handing him the clothes.  
"Ugh." He sighed and went into one of the dressing rooms.


	3. Cafe's

Enjolras sat with Combeferre and Courfeyrac at a table in the cafe late in the daye. Courfeyrac had convinced them to stay a bit longer than usual because there was, apparently, 'Something spectaculacious for them to see!'.

"What was it you needed to show us, dear?" Comeferre asked Courfeyrac, leaning back in his seat with a slight sigh.  
"This better not take too long either - I have plans tonight." Enjolras said.  
"_You_ have _plans_?" Courfeyrac raised an eyebrow.  
"Yes - planning the revolution and doing some studying for my history class." He nodded.

Courfeyrac groaned and rolled his eyes. "Well, what you're about to see may shock, horrify, and confuse you. Viewer discretion is advised." He said in a mockingly deep voice, before dramatically running over to the door of the cafe.

"I now present to you -" Courfeyrac then opened the door, "Grantaire!"

But no one was in the doorway. Courfeyrac awkwardly leaned back behind the doorway to see outside, seeing Grantaire leaning against the wall. Courfeyrac quickly grabbed Grantaire's arm and dragged him into the cafe.

Both Enjolras and Combeferre's eyes widened. Grantaire was...not Grantaire.

His usual hairy-face (nose, beard, eyebrows, mustache, etc.) were cut, leaving his face nice and smooth. He was _very_ well dressed - much better than his usual drunk, gross, unsanitary attire. And the way he stood was that of a tall, sober, successful man. Although he wasn't that attractive still, he wasn't that ugly either - he was reasonably okay looking. And his smile - although forced - was nice, not drunk! His teeth were white and clean, not full of plaque and cavities. Grantaire was almost unrecognizable!

"Uhm...hi..." Grantaire spoke, clearing his throat.  
"Hi..." Enjolras and Combeferre spoke at the same time.

Grantaire awkwardly made his way to the table with Courfeyrac and sat down. He couldn't help but feel like an alien as everyone just gawked and stared at him in disbelief. If this was what 'okay-looking' felt like, he was almost sure that he preferred to be ignored and ugly again.

"Grantaire you look...how much did Courfeyrac pay you to let him do this?" Combeferre asked with a smile, hiding his own disbelief.  
"Twen-"  
But Grantaire was interrupted by a sharp elbow jabbing his side - Courfeyrac's elbow to be exact.  
"Erm nothing, he didn't pay me anything. I asked him to help me so I could be a...better person?" Grantaire said, looking at Courfeyrac for approval.  
Courfeyrac just facepalmed a bit, then nodded.

"Well...while this is fun and dandy, and I appreciate Grantaire's 'want' to change, we need to focus on the bigger issues here - like, how the hell are we going to convince those other cafe-goer-'revolutionaries' to help us? It was already difficult enough with the one a few miles away from us - imagine them! I just hope they'll understand our points in this case - that there needs to be change, and that they should help us make this change." Enjolras spoke with a nod, looking at Grantaire, almost expecting for a sly comment of disapproval and stupidity to flow out of his mouth.

But nothing did. Grantaire kept silent, and even nodded a bit.  
"Perhaps if we send one person to every cafe, we're bound to make some difference and get the job done faster." Combeferre suggested, nodding a bit.  
"Great idea, 'Ferre!" Enjolras said, before counting out all of the men and assigning them to cafe's.

As he did this, he couldn't help but glance up at Grantaire. He hadn't said a word in a good while - it was almost...unnatural. He was so used to Grantaire's endless babbling, this was almost eerie. But Enjolras kept doing the task at hand, determined that Combeferre's plan would succeed.

It was a few minutes later that Enjolras sighed a bit from frustration. It wouldn't work. There wasn't enough men for all of the cafe's, there was one left.  
"I suppose I can go to two..." Enjolras muttered beneath his breath, writing it down.  
"That's not necessary - I can do it." Spoke a voice that surprised Enjolras, and caused him to jerk his head up quickly.

Grantaire, who had not been assigned a cafe yet, was the voice, and he had volunteered to help. It was almost unbelievable. Grantaire had been listening and occasionally looking at Enjolras' notes without Enjolras noticing, and knew that there was one extra.

"_You_ volunteer?" Enjolras asked him with a raised eyebrow.  
"Yeah, that is if you'll allow me to." Grantaire spoke with a nod. "I promise I won't mess up, just tell me where I need to go and what to say, and I'll do it."

Enjolras thought about this. It would be almost too easy for the man to mess up, he never listened and hated the things they stood for. But...if Enjolras were to write down things for Grantaire to say, it may just work...

"...Fine. Grantaire you will be going to the cafe a few blocks away - the one on Rue du Bourbon, which I'm sure you've been on once or twice." Enjolras said.  
Grantaire nodded. He had been there more than once or twice. He wasn't sure if going to such a place that tempted him was such a good idea, but he didn't say anything, and was determined to not cave in like it was so easy to do in that place.

"Now everyone go to where they were assigned! Remember to try hard, this is war and we need soldiers!" Enjolras said to everyone, and they complied, heading to their locations.

Grantaire stood up, but Enjolras grabbed his arm to keep him from going. Grantaire's heart skipped a beat at Enjolras' touch, even if it was a rough grab to keep him in place.  
"Not you, I need to give you something. I don't trust you'll know what to say, so I'm going to write something down for you. Hand me Combeferre's notebook." Enjolras said.  
Grantaire was going to argue against it, but he just sighed and handed him the notebook.

Enjolras quickly wrote down a speech for Grantaire, then handed the rushed, yet neat writing to him.  
"Here - and don't lose it. And don't even add your own words. Just say what is precisely on the paper." Enjolras spoke sternly.  
Grantaire nodded. "Relax, Enjolras - I may be a drunk, but I'm not a child." He said before walking out quickly with the speech, Enjolras following him out to go to his own location.

* * *

Enjolras had finished his speech, and wasn't sure if anyone else had. He decided to go and check on everyone. As he walked, he decided the first he would check on was Grantaire, since he wasn't sure if he entirely trusted the 'former drunk' with such a task. After all, Grantaire had been known to mess up many simple things they had told him to do. For example; the time at one of their street protests, Grantaire was told to hold a sign, and after he was left alone he neglected the sign and went to go get a drink, causing the headcheck to be hectic and worried. They searched all evening for him, and eventually found him in a bar after giving up at all of the police stations. The man was so drunk, he nearly passed out.

He was worried that Grantaire was going to mess this up, yet he had somehow began to trust him. He didn't know why, but for some reason, the new look seemed so...trustworthy almost. Besides, Courfeyrac was the one who 'rehabilitated' him, and if anyone could rehabilitate people, it was Courfeyrac. Enjolras recalled this one time Courfeyrac had brought home a gross, scrawny, vicious, evil, horrid stray cat, and within two weeks the cat was a pretty, cute, sweet little domestic cat. So Courfeyrac could definitely handle changing Grantaire. But cats and men are different - if a cat has love and care, it can't go back to being a stray, while a man (given the same love and care) can. And that's what almost worried Enjolras - that the staggering, annoying, loud, horrid drunk would return and reek his silly drunken havoc upon their revolution plans to change and help the society like he used to. He didn't want that man back - he quite liked the man that he had met today, and hated to think that it was possible that Grantaire could go back to being that. But he could. And it was very possible.

Enjolras had soon arrived at the place he had assigned Grantaire, and almost couldn't believe - well, actually, he could believe it. What did he expect? - his eyes. Rather than reading the speech Enjolras had instructed him to do, Grantaire was drinking and gambling with some men at a table, seeming to have a good time.  
Enjolras glared at the man and crossed his arms sternly, leaning against the door frame of the gross, old building.

Grantaire looked up and almost jumped at the sight of Enjolras. He knew shit was going to go down now that Enjolras had seen that. Grantaire put down his cards, excused himself from his new 'friends', and went over to Enjolras.

"I knew you couldn't handle this." Enjolras spit out angrily.  
"Enjolras, look, I-"  
"You what?! This was the _simplest thing_ I could've made you done to help us today! I even told you _exactly_ what to say!"  
"But listen I-"  
"No. I'm done listening to you. All you do is argue back and make a mess of things! Why can't you just go home and stay home, waste away your life with alcohol and gambling?! Why can't you just leave my revolution alone?!" Enjolras exclaimed angrily. The whole cafe building had gone silent, and everyone was staring at the men.  
"Enjolras...I got them to agree to help." Grantaire said after a moment of silence.

Enjolras' features started to calm down a bit from that. He looked around and the shocked men and women, looking at him like he was some kind of executioner who had just killed someone. He cleared his throat and slowly uncrossed his arms.  
"You...did?" He asked a bit awkwardly.  
"Yeah, I did. They all said they'd be happy to join and help out." Grantaire said with a nod, looking around almost embarrassingly at everyone.  
"Oh...well er...good job. You can continue..._that_ if you want..." Enjolras spoke, then turned to the people in the cafe. "Thank you to those who agreed, and I'm sorry to uproar. It won't happen again." He said, before turning and leaving quickly.

Grantaire sighed as he watched Enjolras stride down the street quickly. A friend of his - Francois - had stood by him. "Wow...that guy was a dumbass...I hope he doesn't show up again."

This made Grantaire look over at him, raising an almost angry eyebrow. "What was that?"  
"I said that he was a dumbass...maybe even a retard or sociopath. Did you see how he just exploded like that in public? And to you! If he comes back and does that again, he's dead."

* * *

"Oh my goodness, what happened?" Combeferre asked calmly, yet alarmed when he saw Grantaire sit down in a seat at the table he, Prouvaire, Courfeyrac, and Enjolras were seated at. He had a black eye, a bloody nose, and his clothes were torn a bit.

"What do you think? I got into a fight." Grantaire spoke with a sigh, sitting down.  
"Here, let me treat those." Combeferre said, getting up and leaving the table to get his first aid kit.  
"No, no don't I'm fine." Grantaire said, frowning, but Combeferre ignored him as he left.

There was an awkward silence at the table as they all looked Grantaire over - all bruised and battered. It hadn't been the first time they saw him like this, but it was definitely rare for him to get beaten up _this_ bad, considering he was a bigger man. The silence made Grantaire think a lot about what had happened, and decided to just outright tell Enjolras the bad news.

"Hey uhm, Enjolras...we may have lost the help from that one cafe you told me to convince..." Grantaire said awkwardly.  
Enjolras looked a bit frustrated at that. "You need to be more considerate with that stuff, Grantaire! Now you cost us soldiers, and our revolution will be even more life threatening!" He exclaimed.

"Would you _stop shouting at me?!_" Grantaire exclaimed with a frustrated sigh. "All you do is shout at us! We never get a 'thanks' or an 'atleast you tried' or anything like that! Oh my god, you're such a dumbass! Francois was right and I regret sticking up for you! You don't fucking deserve it! He was right, maybe you are a sociopath or a retard." Grantaire said angrily, before standing up and storming out of the cafe.

Courfeyrac groaned and got up, chasing after him, leaving Prouvaire and Enjolras with yet again, another awkward silence.

Enjolras felt strangely...upset? Like an asshole? He sighed and leaned back in his seat, looking down guiltily. Maybe it was time for _him_ to change as well as Grantaire.


End file.
